Lifeline

And Ramis! Anna had locked him outside, left him unprotected. Karen had no way to contact him. He was going to be roasted in the detonation. He was going to die, along with all the other people Anna Tripolk had targeted.

“{{ONE HUNDRED SECONDS TO DETONATION.}}”

“I know what time it is! Stop reminding me!” she screamed into the intercom. After a brief pause, the computer voice spoke again.

“{{AUDIO OVERRIDE ACCOMPLISHED. VERBAL COUNTDOWN DISCONTINUED.}}”

Karen blinked in astonishment and choked with sudden hope. She had to act fast. If the computer was voice-activated, she might be able to communicate over the intercom. The computer would not know, or care, if she was physically inside the room or not.

“Computer, confirm access to command controls!”

“{{AFFIRMATIVE. CONFIRMATION AUTHORIZED BY COMMANDER TRIPOLK.}}”

“Continue verbal countdown! In one-second intervals.” She didn’t want to hear how little time she had, but still, she needed to know.

“{{EIGHTY-EIGHT. EIGHTY-SEVEN …}}”

Karen pressed her lips up against the speaker. The descending numbers seemed to roll through the lift-platform corridor, washing over her. “Computer, stop the detonation sequence!” But the computer did not acknowledge, “{{EIGHTY-ONE. EIGHTY. SEVENTY-NINE …}}”

“End the detonation sequence! Cancel! Abort! Halt! Quit! Stop!” Computer language semantics—she had to use the right word. Or perhaps only Anna Tripolk could stop what she had started.

“{{SIXTY-EIGHT. SIXTY-SEVEN …}}”

Karen screamed, “Computer, open the command center door!”

The outer elevator door slid open. Karen pushed inside, slammed at the control panel, and floated up from the floor. The door in front of her face hissed open, leaving her to stand weightless on the threshold. The air smelled stagnant with sweat. Inside, the command center was silent, daring her to enter.

Karen grasped the lip of the door and pulled herself forward, finally noticing tiny drops of blood from her battered fists smearing the outside wall. She flexed her hand, not yet feeling any pain in her adrenaline shock, but knowing it would come.

She pushed outward and sailed into the room. Anna lay slumped in the chair. The holotank in the center of the room showed a three-dimensional graphic of the nuclear weapon sitting behind the solar shield.

“{{FIFTY-ONE. FIFTY …}}”

“Anna! Stop it!”

Karen hit the opposite wall and bounced back toward Anna. Reaching out, she grabbed at the command chair, and the motion set her feet spinning. She stopped her rotation. “Anna!”

Anna Tripolk’s head hung limp.

“{{FORTY-FIVE. FORTY-FOUR …}}”

She shouted one more time at the walls. “Computer! Stop the countdown!” Then she added, for good measure, “That’s an order!”

The computer answered, “{{ACCESS DENIED.}}” then continued its countdown.

Karen breathed deeply through her nose. The War. And now, the end.

She wondered how much she would be able to feel or sense when the warhead went off. She squeezed her eyes shut.

What if Dr. Sandovaal does not make it? thought Ramis. He has pulled too many rabbits out of his hat—perhaps he cannot maneuver the sail-creatures fast enough to escape. Ramis remembered how sluggish Sarat had been at the end of its journey. Ramis didn’t even know if Dr. Sandovaal had received his warning.

He tried to open the sealed airlock door one more time, felt the vibration rippling up his arm. Anna Tripolk had locked him out, leaving only Karen inside to reason with her.

The superstructure did not look any more formidable to Ramis than when he had first arrived—had it been three weeks, already? The graphite-composite rod that held up the giant dish mirror jutted above him. Orbitech 1 gleamed a hundred kilometers away, its details masked by the distance. Ramis turned around and scanned the stars—he could make out the sail-creatures only dimly.

But that did not stop him.

If he had heard Anna correctly through the muffled bulkhead door, then this mirror was the key to the weapon system. It might aim the destructive beam and reflect it to the target, pinpointing either the Phoenix or Orbitech 1.

Ramis stared at the mirror, bending backward to see better over the curve of his faceplate. His magnetized soles clicked against the Kibalchich’s hull as he tested his stretch. He would have to add extra strength in his jump, extend himself to compensate for the brief tug of the magnet’s grip.

And if he missed the mirror, he would go flying off into space.

His time was running short. The weapon would detonate within seconds if he believed the clock on his heads-up display. He had no other choice.